


A Study In Black

by glanmire



Category: BBC Sherlock, The Princess Bride
Genre: A study in pink + vizzini mashup, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glanmire/pseuds/glanmire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John and Mary's honeymoon cruise ship is captured by the Dread Pirate Roberts, so starts a battle of wits between Sherlock and Westley for the lives of their loved ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study In Black

"You see Westley, John and Mary are two people who are extremely important to me, and I don't believe that my duties as best man ended at the wedding. So for the honeymoon I calculated every conceivable risk and planned accordingly." 

The man in black approached him slowly, listening to every word. 

"So when their cruise ship was pulled over by the notorious and nefarious Dread Pirate Roberts, who as everyone knows, leaves no survivors, I had a contingency plan. And so here we are." 

"So welcome, Westley," Sherlock called out when the man in black was almost upon him. "Or Dread Pirate Roberts, whichever you prefer."  
"I was going to do this all anonymously actually. Hence the mask."  
"Oh." Sherlock looked him up and down. "Sorry if I spoiled that approach for you. But at least the mask does look quite comfortable."  
"It is," and Westley took the seat across from Sherlock. "You know, this little meeting goes against all protocol. My people aren't in the least bit happy, it's going to be a nightmare paying for the overtime." 

“I understand completely," Sherlock replied, “but first I must say, this business with the no survivors is truly remarkable."  
"Let me explain—” the man in black began, leaning forward.  
"No need" Sherlock said. "I know you're not the original Roberts. You are merely an imposter feeding off the fear of the truly great."  
"It's not-"  
Sherlock interrupted again. “Only one question though; does leaving no survivors entail that everyone is slaughtered every time, or only when they resist?"  
"What difference does it make?"  
"An enormous difference. If John and Mary fought back -which they did, I presume- then their deaths are assured as per your rules. If not, they should be safe." 

“Has it occurred to you that if this theory was in fact correct then the story that Dread Pirate Roberts leaves no survivors would be quickly corrected by the ones who did not struggle?"  
“Undoubtedly. And yet if Dread Pirate Roberts always kills, why didn't your predecessor kill you?"  
"Will saying that I was the exception that proves the rule suffice?"  
"No."  
"Thought not. But tell me Sherlock, what stops me killing you right here right now? And then Mary and John when I get back?"  
Sherlock smiled. "I have accumulated knowledge that is of interest to you."  
Westley waited, and then asked incredulously after a beat, "That's it? That's all you're offering? Some trivia against your best friends lives?"  
Sherlock stayed silent. Westley threw his hands up. "Well, what do I have to lose? Piracy's been a little dull lately anyway. So fine, I challenge you to a battle of wits.”

Westley then pulled from his dark clothing a small packet and pushed it across to Sherlock. "Open it and inhale, but be careful not to touch.”  
Sherlock seemed to take the advice very literally, as he did not move to touch the packet in anyway. He elaborated at Westley's searching look.  
"You wear gloves, meaning even touching the packet could kill me. It could also be an airborne poison, meaning inhaling it would be the death of me. So thank you, but I decline." 

The man in black carefully took the packet back again. “You are an unusual man, Mr Sherlock Holmes. The packet contains iocane powder. It is odorless-"  
"Tasteless, soluble in any liquid and primarily exported from Australia." Sherlock sighed. "When does this get interesting?" 

Westley could not help but look a little crestfallen.  
"I admit, I did not expect you to identify it quite so quickly, and I am a little disappointed."  
"Take your time."  
Westley breathed in deeply, and then turned back to Sherlock again. "Disappointment put aside. Thank you for your patience. Shall we continue with the battle of wits, even though you have correctly identified the iocane powder?"  
Sherlock agreed that they should so Westley reached into his right pocket, took out an identical packet and placed it beside the first.  
"You weren't expecting that, were you?"  
"Actually I was, I'm having the most incredible sense of déjà vu. It's not your fault though, do carry on." 

The man in black sighed heavily. "You're really not helping here. Are you sure you wish to continue, or do you wish to forfeit?"  
"No. The game is on, we can't just stop."  
"Fine. Use your sleeve if you must, but take the two packets. You decide who gets which, to shake it up a little."  
"But then it's just 50/50 who gets which. The idea is that you get to choose, and I have to deduce from that which is the poison."  
"Yes, I had intended to do it that way originally, but I fear you are too good at deductions for that to be fair. Now, whichever packet you choose, I take the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine." 

Sherlock slapped the table.  
"What?" Westley asked a little defensively, "I improvised that bit because clearly you've played this before and-"  
"It's still the exact same really, which is immensely frustrating. But it's fine, really." 

Sherlock took the two packets into his hand, his sleeve carefully between the skin and the packet, and stared at them with disinterest.  
“Right" Westley said, nonplussed, "well battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and pour a packet into each of our drinks, and we find out who wins and who is dead. We both drink, and obviously swallow, at precisely the same time.”

“It’s all so simple,” Sherlock said a touch sadly. “All I have to do is deduce why you would assume that this fifty percent chance is still preferable to if you had made the first move instead."  
“You’re stalling,” said the man in black.  
"All in good time," answered Sherlock. “Do you assume my skill to be so great?Hardly. I have done little to impress a talented man such as yourself today. So do you think that you are such a bad liar that if you made the move, I would be able to tell immediately. But a pirate who cannot lie?" 

"Have you reached a verdict then?" Westley asked, oddly relaxed.  
"The packets are both equal, hence giving me the choice. So in all probability the danger was not in the packets. They were simply a distraction, and you would kill me as I chose, or perhaps when I went to spike the drinks." 

"Actually you're mostly wrong."  
"Is that so? Do elaborate."  
"I've spent the last two years building up immunity to iocane powder."  
"And both packets contain a lethal amount for anyone else. That is brilliant, although it does seem a bit like cheating."  
"I am a pirate, Mr Holmes." 

Sherlock cracked his neck. "True. Well, what do we do now? Do I die for getting it wrong?"  
"To be honest, I can't see any good in killing you. This was most enjoyable. But I do believe I deserve the information now." 

"I presume you remember the lovely Buttercup?"  
Westley's voice grew harder. "How do you know of her?"  
"Believe me, I do not mean her any harm. Others do, however. She will be kidnapped two days from now, and taken through the Cliffs of Insanity onto the Guilder border, where she will be killed, so that Florin has ample excuse to start war with Guilder."  
Westley fell silent for a long moment, and then stood.  
"I believe I must be going, Mr Holmes. There is somewhere I need to be."  
Sherlock coughed. "And what befalls John and Mary?"  
"Yes, yes of course this information is worth their lives. Can you deal with all of this please, I really must be going, I'm sure you'll think of something. Any experience in faking deaths?"  
"More than you would believe."  
"Great-" and Westley was already leaving. "Thank you Sherlock."  
"My pleasure," Sherlock said, but the man in black was already gone.


End file.
